


Revalations

by sherlockcrush



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Humiliation, Incest if you turn your head sideways and squint, Incesty vibe, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Situational Humiliation, Sort of group thing, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 06:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockcrush/pseuds/sherlockcrush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg crossed his arms. “You know, if it were me, I’d put him over his knee and spank him.” He watched John out of the corner of his eye.</p><p>--<br/>Gregory Lestrade teaches John Watson how to keep Sherlock better behaved. Really, a Holmes just needs a bit of a firm hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revalations

**Author's Note:**

> From the BBC Sherlock kinkememe (http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/21231.html?page=51#comments).
> 
> Currently unbetad, so I apologize for the typos.

“You ok, mate?” Greg asked, leaning casually against the wall outside of 221B where John was also leaning, arms crossed, frowning.

“Yeah, sorry to just up and leave like that. Sometimes Sherlock – well – you heard what he said.”

Lestrade snorted. “Yeah. Do you ever talk to him about that kind of stuff? Does he know that he hurts people with his…choice of words?”

“Oh yeah. Since before we before we started dating.”

Greg crossed his arms. “You know, if it were me, I’d put him over his knee and spank him.” He watched John out of the corner of his eye.

John sputtered. “What?! He’s an adult!”

“So?” Greg shifted a bit uncomfortably and said quietly, “That’s how I handle Mycroft.”

John pinned him with a wide eyed stare. “You what?! What do you mean handle?”

Lestrade shrugged. “He’s got awful habits when it comes to eating and sleeping. A couple of months after we started seeing each other, there was some emergency in Berlin. He came home and collapsed and slept for 2 days. That’s when I pried it out of him that he hadn’t sleep for 3 days, and barely ate. He looked like shit. I was so scared for him and then I was angry that he wouldn’t take care of himself. In a fit of an argument, I said that next time he pulled something like that, I’d put him over my lap and spank him. He dared me to.” Greg shrugged again and grinned at John. “I took him up on the dare.”

John was silent for a moment. “Wow. Somehow I can’t imagine Mycroft putting up with it.”

“I think he likes it. I think the two ‘em had nannies who coddled them as kids and let them run amuck and never had a solid bed time.”

“Must’ve been a hand full.”

Greg snorted. “Probably. But yeah, spanking sort of….changed things for us.”

“How so?”

“Well between you and me? It leads to the best sex I’ve ever had.”

John raised his eyebrows. “Really. So he, uh, likes it?”

“Well, I enjoy it, too. But yeah, makes him randy as hell.”

For a minute, they’re both silent. Finally John said, “So. Do you think that would, uh, be the same for Sherlock? Being brothers and all?”

“Well. You could find out. Come to our place for dinner on Saturday. I’m sure something will arise that will require some…attention.”

“If you’re sure, then yeah.”

“Deal. You bring the dessert.”

“Ok, and Greg? Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he replied, getting into his cop car that was parked outside of 221B. “See you Saturday.”

“Cheers,” John said and patted the roof before taking a deep breath and walking back inside.

\---  
“I don’t know what you hope to gain from this,” Sherlock muttered as the cab pulled up in front of Mycroft and Greg’s townhouse.

John paid the driver and got out, standing next to his lover, placing a hand on Sherlock’s lower back. “We’re family, love. Family spends time together. Besides, Greg says that Mycroft’s amazing at making salmon, which he’s making for us tonight.”

“Very well. But don’t blame me if it leads to disaster.”

John chuckled. “Being a bit overdramatic, aren’t we?” John led them up to the front door and rang the bell.

Greg opened the door with a smile. “Glad you guys could make it!” He stood back and let them in. He was wearing black jeans and a tight blue tshirt, and, Sherlock noted under his breath, was barefoot.

They walked into the large kitchen, where the older Holmes brother was prodding at salmon filets on an oven tray. He was bent over, and John’s mind immediately produced the image that he’d obsessed over all week, that of Mycroft Holmes arse up over Greg’s lap. He looked away before he could embarrass himself. 

“Smells amazing,” John said.

“Thank you, John. I’m glad you and Sherlock could make it.”

Sherlock made a noncommittal noise and sat on one of the tall stools at the kitchen island. “So these are your vaunted cooking skills? I had no idea you cooked, brother.”

“Well, I suppose it’s nice to have someone to cook for,” Mycroft said, smiling across to Greg , ignoring the jab. He padded barefoot across the kitchen to help Lestrade take out the plates.

\--

“That was excellent,” John said, leaning back in his chair. “Mycroft, you’ve surprised me. I had no idea you could cook like that.”

Greg grasped Mycroft’s hand on the table.

“Thank you. I’ve…found it to be rather relaxing to cook.”

“He’s been trying new things in the kitchen when he has the time. And my hours are kind of crazy,” Greg said, “So I don’t get to cook as much. But I try when I’m able. Besides, we still order out plenty, too.”

“I think you’re making us feel incompetent,” John said with a chuckle as he rested his hand on Sherlock’s thigh and squeezed. “We usually just get takeout from the Chinese place down the street. My hours at the clinic change around a lot…”

“John, if you’re suggesting that I should play housewife for you, you’ve hit your head recently,” Sherlock muttered.

“I am not playing housewife,” Mycroft said icily. “Just because you can’t take it upon yourself to look after your needs or that of John’s doesn’t mean that –“

“Mycroft. Enough.” Greg squeezed Mycroft’s hand.

“Apologies,” Mycroft said, looking at John. 

“Of course,” John said somewhat awkwardly before glancing at Lestrade, one eyebrow raised. Beside him, Sherlock smirked.

“Perhaps we should move to the living room?” Greg said, eyes locked with John’s. A small smile played around his lips, and John had an inkling as to why.

“Sounds good. We brought some fancy baked things that Sherlock wanted to bring.”

“They’re called profiteroles, John.”

“Yeah, those,” John said as he stood up.

Later, the four of them were seated in the comfortable living room on plush sofas by the fire. Lestrade and John are drinking beer, and the Holmes brothers are nursing small glasses of very fine scotch.

The plate of profiteroles (or cream filled things, as John calls them) is half empty, and as Sherlock picked up another one and brings it to his lips, he decided he would buy them more often.

Sherlock snaked his tongue out and slowly licked at the cream around the edge, a move that should, John thought, be made illegal it was so erotic. Sherlock popped the sweet into his mouth and then licked the rest of the cream off his fingers. His eyes met John’s, who shook his head good naturedly. Of course Sherlock knew of the effect he would have him.

Sherlock reached for another one, tongue sinuously creeping out and licking at it.

“I don’t suppose you could wait until later to do that, Sherlock?” Mycroft interjected, from where he leaned against Greg’s side on the sofa.

“Why? We brought these to share,” Sherlock replied with a smirk.

“And you’re – you’re nearly being pornographic about it, brother,” Mycroft said, shifting slightly.

“And?” Sherlock asked.

“It’s not decent. You never did learn manners,” the older brother grumbled, glaring icily.

“Just because I choose not to follow ridiculous social norms doesn’t mean that –“

“Social norms ridiculous?! Sherlock! You know how Mummy hates this sort of – “

“Enough. Both of you,” Greg said firmly. “This fighting has to stop. You’re both acting like children.”

John watched, noticing that Mycroft winced for just a moment before folding his hands in his lap.

“I think perhaps that we should – “ Mycroft started.

“No,” Lestrade said firmly. “It’s too late for you to wheedle your way out of this like we’re in the middle of some sort of political negotiation.” He glanced at John for a moment before turning his attention back to his boyfriend. “I think you need some direction, love. I think you need a spanking.” In the complete silence that followed that line, he clasped Mycroft’s chin and slowly directed the younger man to look at him. In response, Mycroft Holmes looked down, silently submitting with a single nod.

Watching this interplay, John swallowed as arousal spiked in his groin. He glanced at Sherlock. The younger man was watching with open interest, as if perplexed and trying to deduce more information, and frowning slightly. 

“Here? Now?” Mycroft said, breaking the silence.

“Yes.” He paused and caressed Mycroft’s chin. Mycroft swallowed and then nodded. Greg looked at John pointedly. “You can stay or leave, but decide now.”

John glanced at Sherlock again, assessing him. Sherlock was tense, but a large bulge was forming in his bespoke slacks. John wrapped an arm around Sherlock’s waist and pulled him back against him as he leaned back on the sofa. Sherlock stiffened.

“We’ll stay,” John said, his hand splayed possessively over Sherlock’s stomach.

Greg turned to Mycroft and spoke softly in his ear, petting his stomach gently. 

“John, obviously you and Lestrade have made arrangements ahead of time. What are you doing?”

“Shhh,” John replied, brushing Sherlock’s curls out of his face. “We didn’t exactly plan it out. If you’re really uncomfortable, we can leave. But not a word from you, understood?”

“And leave before watching my brother be humiliated? Never. I relish it.”

John was saved from making a reply when Mycroft stood up. All eyes were glued to him as he stoically unbuttoned his slacks and pushed them down his long pale legs.

John’s eyes widened. Somehow he hadn’t figured on clothes being removed. This was threatening to short circuit his brain. He twisted a bit, trying to rearrange himself surreptitiously, but he knew that Sherlock would know what he was doing.

Mycroft was wearing tight navy shorts, and John had no doubt they were silk. Greg sat back and he gracefully draped himself face down over his boyfriend’s lap, still wearing a crisp long sleeved button down shirt. His arse was pointed up on Greg’s lap, making a rather erotic picture.

“Usually, I don’t allow him to wear hit shorts for a spanking, but I’ve let this go considering the…audience,” Greg said. Mycroft turned his face away from the other men in the room, his pale skin flushing. Greg ran a soothing hand over his back. “Now, why do you deserve to be punished?”

Mycroft swallowed nervously. “For being rude to our guests.”

“And?”

“And…for picking fights with my brother.”

“Very good. 20, and I won’t make you count this time.”

Mycroft nodded and softly said what might have been, “Yes Gregory.”

Lestrade lifted his hand and brought it down in the middle of his arse with a loud smack. Mycroft grunted softly. With that, Greg set up a smooth pace, bringing his hand up and down with a regular rhythm. Mycroft grunted and whimpered, but didn’t cry out.

At the first smack, John couldn’t help but notice that Sherlock jumped in his arms. His hand pressed tighter on Sherlock’s flat stomach, and he idly played with Sherlock’s long neck as they watched the scene play out before them. 

Finally, Greg stopped. He was panting lightly and the man on his lap was flushed and squirming. He ran a hand soothingly over his back and arse, and leaned down, murmuring softly.

John looked down Sherlock’s torso and saw that he was clearly still hard. He smirked and caught Greg’s eye.

“You know,” John said, breaking the silence, “one good turn deserves another.”

Sherlock stiffened in his arms. “No.”

“You’ve been a prat since we came here tonight, and that’s no way to behave when you’re a guest in someone’s home.” John grasped Sherlock’s hair and gently pulled his head back so that he could see his pale eyes, knowing that the other two men were watching them intently.

“John, I don’t think that –“

“No, Greg was right. It’s too late to get out of this.” He lowered his voice and dug his fingers into Sherlock’s stomach. “You know you’re curious, love. Don’t you want to know *why* this is making you so hard? Hmm?”

Sherlock’s eyes fluttered closed and he swallowed, head still tilted back on John’s shoulder. 

“Up, love,” John said more loudly. “Face me. Shoes and trousers off.”

For several heartbeats, no one moved. Then Sherlock stood up gracefully. He bent down and pulled off his shoes and socks. Keeping his eyes locked on John, he slowly unzipped his slacks and pushed them down. John smiled when he realized that Sherlock was wearing John’s favorite pair of boxer-briefs. They were tight and black with a wide red band along the top. John always thought they were sexy as hell.

Sherlock blushed. Actually blushed under everyone’s gaze. John sat back and raised his eyebrows at him in question. In one fluid motion, Sherlock lay down on his stomach across John’s lap. John took a moment to take in the image of his lover like this, lithe and flushed and oh so hard, a hardness that he could easily feel digging into his thigh. The dark pants and shirt are a stark contrast to his pale skin.

Across the room, Mycroft was still lying over Greg’s lap. They both watched intently, Greg resting a hand on his upturned arse, a small smile playing on his lips.

John ran a hand over Sherlock’s arse and then his cheek. “Ready love?”

Sherlock closed his eyes and nodded.

“So they can hear you.”

“Yes, I-I’m ready.”

With a grim smile, John brought his hand down. He missed the middle spot, having never spanked anyone before, and then adjusted so that he could smack the tempting ass right in the middle.

Sherlock yelped at the first smack but stayed quiet through the next five smacks. John paused briefly, eyes flicking across the room. Greg nodded ever so slightly in encouragement, and he began in earnest, raining smacks down on his lover’s arse. He stopped at 12, imagining that was enough for a first time. He rested his hand on Sherlock’s arse, and was amazed at how he could feel the heat radiating from it through his shorts. What must his skin look like? John swallowed his arousal and focused instead on soothing his lover.

Sherlock lay still, breathing hard, eyes closed. John noted that he was still hard. Possibly achingly hard. Silence fell on the room.

When John looked at the other two men, he locked eyes with Greg and smiled a bit shyly. Greg grinned, as if to say ‘now that’s how you keep a Holmes in line.’

“Come on, Myc, let’s go up to bed,” Greg said softly but firmly.

Mycroft crawled off his lap and stood up, walking to the door that led to the stairs. He paused and looked at John and Sherlock, giving them a smile. “Good evening. I hope you won’t mind if Gregory and I leave you early tonight. You are welcome to stay the night. Or as long as you wish.” With that, he padded out of the room.

Greg followed. He paused as he passed by the sofa where their guests were situated. He leaned down and said softly, “The second door on the left upstairs. Guest bedroom that’s setup for you guys if you want.”

“Cheers,” John said in response.

When silence fell on the room, John sat back and watched the fire, Sherlock still sprawled across his lap, unmoving. They were both still hard and John waited, letting his boyfriend work out whatever problem it was in his mind.

Finally, Sherlock turned over onto his back. He looked up at John from beneath hooded eyes.

“That was most…exhilarating. I had not thought it would feel that way.”

“What way?” John asked with a smile. He ran his hand up and down Sherlock’s side, ignoring the obvious bulge.

Sherlock squirmed, blushing. “Like – I’m on display. And that you’d take care of me…even if I were bad.”

“You were on display. In fact, you’re still on display. For me…and you like it,” John said, letting his hand rest over the bulge in Sherlock’s shorts.

Sherlock whined softly, hips jerking up. He nodded.

“And you enjoyed watching Mycroft in the same situation. Just as you enjoyed them watching you.”

Sherlock paused and then nodded slowly, flushing.

“Ahh, well, we’ll have to explore that another time,” John said as he began to undo the row of buttons on Sherlock’s shirt. Sherlock lay still, letting him push his shirt open to reveal the hard planes of his pale chest. 

“Take it off,” John said, nodding at the shirt. Obediently, Sherlock wriggled to get his shirt off. Half way through complying, John held up his hand. “Actually, stop there.”

Sherlock’s arms were pinned neatly behind his back in the shirt, and John grinned down at him. “Spanking and bondage in one night, John? We’re getting rather adventurous, don’t you think?”

“Mmm, but then, we always work best together when there’s a hint of danger, right?”

Sherlock chuckled, the sound deep and reverberating in his chest beneath John’s hand. “I suppose it is our MO….sir.”

John swallowed at the word. Sir. How could one little word have such an impact on him?

“Clearly this excites you,” John replied, hand hovering over the bulge in Sherlock’s shorts.

“I see my deduction skills have rubbed off on you,” he said with a smirk.

John lightly smacked Sherlock’s hip. “Oy. Still being a prat. Do I need to spank you again?”

In response, Sherlock hissed and arched up into his hand.

“Hmm, apparently we’ve discovered a new kink,” John said with a grin. “I’m going to enjoy exploring this with you.”

“And I with you,” Sherlock replied, “But I should also point out the fact that I am near bursting.”

“Mmm, that’s a fact is it? Budge up for me, love?” John wriggled out from under him and carefully picked him up and laid him gently on the plush carpet before the fire. Sherlock was lying spread out like an erotic buffet. He knelt next to him, enjoying the vision of Sherlock, long and lithe, wriggling erotically with his arms pinned behind his back.

“You’re utterly gorgeous, Sherlock. I don’t think I tell you that enough. Though you’re even more gorgeous like this, all open and wanton…” John pushed Sherlock’s legs open and knelt between them. 

Sherlock, for once, stayed silent. His sharp eyes watched John through a haze of lust. John lay down so that his face was just above the tempting bulge in his boyfriend’s shorts. An inch or two away from touching with his lips, John paused. He could practically feel Sherlock straining upwards. With a grin, he licked a wide stripe up the bulge, causing Sherlock to groan. John did it again and then blew on the now wet area. With a grin, he repeated the process until Sherlock was a helpless writhing mass on the floor, utterly at his mercy.

Then John smacked Sherlock’s hip, making him groan. “Think I could make you cum just like this, love? Think I could make you cum if I spank your delectable arse?”

Sherlock whimpered. “Y-yesss.”

“Alright. Shirt off and on your hands and knees,” John said firmly, helping Sherlock up and into position. John sat back on his heels and admired the sight. How could he be so lucky? Sherlock put so much trust in him. “Stay just like this, Sherlock. I’ll be right back.” He stood up, giving him one smooth smack before wandering over to the kitchen, shedding his shirt as he walked. He rifled through a couple of drawers before wandering back.

Sherlock was still in position, and John knelt behind him. “Well, I hope you aren’t too attached to this delightful pair of shorts, Sherlock.”

“They’re one of my favorites,” Sherlock said with a frown over his shoulder. 

“Mmm, they do make you look delicious,” John said. “We’ll buy you a new pair.” He pulled the fabric away from Sherlock’s arse and picked up the scissors he’d found. He carefully cut into the seam, creating a large slit in the back. “Perfect,” he muttered, rather proud of himself.

“What did you just do?” Sherlock asked, twisting around to see.

“Oi!” John said, spanking his hip. “Back into position.”

Sherlock wriggled his arse in response and stared ahead obediently. John pulled the small tube of lube out of his pocket and slicked up a finger. He braced himself on Sherlock’s hip and pushed a slick finger through the slit and into his boyfriend’s tight arse. Sherlock arched in surprise.

“Ohhhh,” Sherlock groaned.

“Thought you’d like that.”

John focused on opening up Sherlock’s body, pushing his fingers in and twisting. And then he smacked Sherlock’s arse cheek three times with his free hand, and Sherlock cried out and came, shuddering through a sudden hard orgasm.

When he was done, Sherlock knelt there, panting, head hanging down. John soothed his hand over his back. “Shhhh, that’s good. So beautiful like this, Sherlock.” He pressed kisses to Sherlock’s sweat-sheened back, and gently pulled him into an embrace. 

After a couple of minutes of cuddling, Sherlock muttered, “I think it’s clear that we should explore this new kink in all of its interesting facets.”

“Mmm, though possibly not always on Mycroft and Greg’s carpet.”

“Excellent point. Might I suggest that we make use of the offered guest room?”

John stood up and offered his lover a hand. “I think we’ll need to buy you more shorts. Do they sell them in other colors? I think we need to get you several.”


End file.
